I am currently re-reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Nursing it, sipping on it, reading a chapter every now and then. This afternoon I am in the middle of chapter 7, “In the House of Tom Bombadil.” As I read, I was reminded of a night that I spent in the home of some friends of mine who live a little under an hour to the west back in January, and the supernatural, otherworldly peace that I felt in that place. They are charismatics, and that night was one of the happenings that confirmed me in my recent (i.e. last six months) shift towards being a charismatic myself. The Holy Spirit does things that I can’t explain otherwise.
I’ve also been musing on the vulnerability of creativity. Creativity is a very vulnerable thing, and when you step into the mind of a man like Tolkien and try to imagine what the creative process must have been like for him, you have to be struck by how brave his poems and characters are. He writes with a gravity seldom found in the elderly but mingles in a very whimsical childlikeness. There is nothing cool or pretentious about it.